Unexpectedly You (4 page)

Her eager expression quickly turned curious. “Okay. I’ll just tell her you came by and that you wanted to talk to her.”

He nodded. “That’ll work. Take care,” he said as he headed back.

Anger roiled in his stomach and his ears were ringing. Emma. Emma. Emma. He whistled out a long slow breath. He couldn’t wait to tell her exactly what her latest stunt would cost her. But he’d warned her, hadn’t he?

Chapter Four

Sitting on a bar stool, nursing her gin and tonic, Emma’s gaze roved the floor of Surf & Sand, landing on the fishing nets and surfboard hanging from the ceiling. Surf typically drew a crowd of locals, but being a Friday night with a basketball game on the flat screen, it was toe-to-toe busy. Still, after the day she’d had, she needed to pour out her problems to the one person she knew would simply listen without being judgmental.

“Jack, Tim will call, won’t he? He’d be stupid not to, don’t you think?”

Jack nodded, his brown eyes reflecting her own uncertainty. Tim would have called by now. It was after seven, and Brooks Savings was closed.

Call.
Call.
Call
.

Like a mantra, she’d spent the last hour convincing herself Tim would come through and find a way to approve her loan. He had to, because the three hours she’d spent up north had resulted in a big fat zero.

The banker from Seaside had outright rejected her loan application. The minute she’d listed her assets (or lack thereof) and her income, the man couldn’t hide his impatience. He was so eager to shuffle her out of his office.

And the other banker from the credit union seemed sympathetic but said Emma didn’t qualify since she wasn’t a member.

Time was running out.

Jack leaned his elbows on the bar in front of her. “You want something to eat? I don’t think lime counts as food.”

She shook her head, her heart pressing against her ribs. She knew he was trying to cheer her up but she struggled to keep from outright sobbing her woes on his broad shoulders as she’d done many times since high school.

When Jack was called to fill an order from a customer in the other end of the bar, Emma swiveled on her stool and let her gaze take another spin around the room. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she noticed there were a lot of faces she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t too long ago that she’d have known almost everyone in the bar.

Even without Mitch McKenna’s help, Bella Del Mar was turning into a tourist attraction and families were finding out about her town’s not-so-secret beauty.

The tide of change loomed like a tsunami, and her heart constricted. She didn’t want her community to change. She hated change. It always came at such a hard price.

Unless Tim called with good news, she would have to talk to Sammy about the possibility that she’d have to go to junior college and maybe hold down a part-time job. But what about her home? What about Paws on the Beach? How would she manage to keep from going under?

“Here you go, Em. Eat.” Jack placed a heaping roast beef sandwich with garlic fries before her. The pungent smell of garlic made her head swim. She pressed a hand to her stomach and felt the hunger pangs. When had she last eaten?

She nibbled on the warm, buttery bread but avoided the greasy fries for fear of chucking right on the gleaming oak bar.

Jack merely rolled his eyes before heading back toward the beer dispensers.

Tim
,
why aren’t you calling?

She turned back to watch the handful of couples dancing to a slow country-western tune. And then her heart missed a beat. Just off the perimeter of the square parquet dance floor was Mitch McKenna. He was dancing, or more like swaying, with his arms suggestively around a curvaceous brunette. When his fingers dipped inappropriately close to her butt, Emma could only stare in disgusted fascination.

Dear God
,
how could this day get any worse?

She wheeled around to face the bar and tossed back her drink in one swift move.
Aaakkk
. The liquor burned through her chest and she coughed up enough spittle to worry the hippie couple sitting next to her. They handed her a pile of beverage napkins.

“Thank you, I’m fine now.” She managed a smile even as tears slid down her cheeks. The couple responded with a cautious nod but shifted over to give her more elbow room. They probably thought she’d projectile something out of her mouth or nose or both.

Emma needed to leave before McKenna saw her. She could not handle another ugly confrontation. Not after the kind of day she’d had. She delved into her purse for her wallet and then groaned inside when realization hit.
Dammit
. So much for a quick exit. She’d used up the last of her cash earlier to buy gas. She waved her hands frantically to catch Jack’s attention, but he was swamped with orders as the crowd thickened past the happy hour.

She turned to the couple again to thank them, but they were preoccupied watching the highlight of the evening local news. When she noticed most everyone in the bar area was watching, she followed suit and froze.

In his dark blue suit and looking straight at the camera, Mitch McKenna appeared professional, successful and livid. The reporter held the microphone to his face while in the background, a group of her neighbors held up signs that said Keep Bella Small.

The volume was turned down so Emma couldn’t hear the interview, but the close-up of Mitch’s face showed worry creases around his mouth and the glint of anger in his gaze. She’d seen that look many times before.

Her heart knocked against her chest and she strained her neck to catch Jack’s attention. She had to get out of here before Mitch saw her. She had no doubt he was livid and that he’d blame her. This latest PR disaster was the last thing he needed with the Planning Council decision around the corner.

Please let me get out of here before he sees me.

“Emma, Emma, Emma.”

The silky smooth drawl sent a shiver up her spine. McKenna wedged his body between her and the hippie couple. His legs brushed up against her knees, and a shot of electricity jolted through her. His breath, which fanned her face, smelled of liquor. Was he drunk?

With his back against the bar, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m surprised to see you here alone. Where’s Bruin? Thought maybe you and he would be celebrating.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat so she could speak. “Celebrating what? I came in to say hi to Jack, but I’m on my way out.”

“You can’t leave yet. I want to buy you a drink. Wait, I can’t buy you a drink. I can’t afford it. You know why? I lost another three thousand dollars today because I couldn’t begin work.”

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the bar, waiting for Jack to notice her. “I don’t need another drink, but thank you.”

“Oh, come on. Where’s the party? You going over his house?”

She frowned. “First of all, what I do is none of your business. Second—” she drew an imaginary circle around her, “—you’re invading my personal space.”

He ignored her attempt to slide off the bar stool. Instead, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Do you remember what we talked about this morning?”

She swallowed hard and her gaze fixed on his throat. “It breaks my heart to burst your ego, but I’ve had more important things to do today than think about you.”

“Of course you have, what with baking cookies and intimate afternoon sneak-aways. What is it with you and baking sweets? Is it your way of overcompensating?” His eyes blazed with fury. “But here’s the thing, you listening? Remember I said that if I were delayed again, there would be serious consequences? I wasn’t lying. I promise you that you will not be happy with the consequences. Am I making myself clear? You can’t bake enough cupcakes to make up for this one.”

She glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

He arched a brow. “The little media circus this afternoon you orchestrated.”

“I...had nothing to do with what happened this afternoon. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. I didn’t call the news station.”

His eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “Sure you didn’t. I got to hand it to you, you sure work your magic fast.”

“I’m sorry that happened. But like I said, I had nothing to do with it. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.”

He drew in a long breath. “Not so fast. Don’t you want to know what the consequences are of your little game? A game that might cause me to lay off my crew?”

Her gaze shot to his face and a queasy feeling started in her stomach. “You’re going to lay off your men?”

“That’s right. Won’t need them now, will I? Thanks to you.”

Exasperated, she tried to catch Jack’s attention again, but her friend was nowhere to be found. “Look, McKenna, I’m tired and I had a really bad day. I’m sorry about your men. I truly am. But I wasn’t responsible. I’m leaving now. Please get out of my way.”

She tried to squeeze past him, but he moved with lightning speed and placed his arms on either side of her body, keeping her captive with her back against the bar. When he took a step closer and her nipples actually rubbed up against his chest, scorching heat ignited like a Roman candle across her chest and bristled the minute follicles on the back of her neck.

She fixed her gaze on his clenched jaw and noticed his eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. She tried to speak but her mouth was parched.

“I warned you I couldn’t afford any more delays. So, since you ignored my warning, here’s what you’ve forced me to do. At eight o’clock Monday morning,
I
will go to Tim Brook’s office and
I
will accept his offer to buy your property.”

A gasp escaped her lips and her gaze flew to meet his. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. I’m talking about the fact that your house is going to go on auction very soon from what I hear. And since I’m a prime customer of Brooks Savings and Loan, I have first dibs on available bank-owned properties.”

She blinked back her shock. “You’re insane. And why is Tim talking to you about my p-personal business? My home isn’t going on the auction block. You’re misinformed.”

He shrugged. “Eight o’clock sharp. By the way—” he lowered the timbre of his voice so it was like a caress, “—those cookies were melt-in-your-mouth good.” His gaze locked with hers and she observed how dark his irises got when he was furious, as he was now.

Intending on pushing him away, she laid her hands against the tense muscles of his chest but before she could shove him, his hands captured hers and held them flat against the thudding of his heart.

“Feel that? Even though you probably wish you had, you haven’t killed me yet. I’m very much alive and I always,
always
keep my promises.”

“Get out of my way,” she said, but the words were barely audible. Like a sponge, her skin absorbed his heat through his shirt and burned a trail up her arm to her face. Their eyes collided and her breath hitched. The music and the chatter in the bar recessed into the distance. She was transfixed by the ragged sound of her breathing and the strong beat of his heart against her palm.

Mitch’s gaze dropped to her lips. His skin flushed and the color of his eyes deepened to a blue-black as angry as a day-old bruise. He seemed to be weighing his options before he released her hands. It was a full thirty seconds before she realized her hands remained flat against his chest. Feeling like a complete fool, she extricated them as casually as she could and let them collapse at her side.

“Get out of my way,” she repeated, her voice coming out thick and hoarse.

“Monday, eight sharp.” There went the curling of the lips again.

Warmth infused her face. She quickly snatched her purse and coat and, without a backward glance, stalked off on unsteady legs. She’d have to pay Jack later because she’d be damned if she’d turn back. Not when her hands were still trembling and burning from McKenna’s touch. The man was perverse. Why did her body react to him?

She wanted to scream until her vocal cords ripped to shreds. How dare Tim talk about her personal finances to anyone, let alone Mitch McKenna? It was a betrayal of trust. An invasion of privacy.

She couldn’t get out of the bar fast enough but just as she was nearing the exit, she bumped into the woman Mitch had been dancing with earlier coming out of the ladies’ room. Emma’s jaw dropped to her chest and she groaned inside with mortification.

There was no doubt about it. The woman whose glossy lips were so plump they resembled a puffer fish was Tim’s young receptionist. She was obviously waiting for Mitch, her coat in her hands. Was she the source of McKenna’s information? Had she overheard Emma’s conversation with Tim and gossiped about it with McKenna? Emma’s stomach churned up acid.

They must be laughing at her, about how pathetic she’d been when she last spoke to Tim. And McKenna...Emma could only imagine his glee. He’d eat this up like a hog in heaven. He was probably scheming up sick ways he’d force her out of her home. Just like Mrs. Madsen.

Mortification turned to fury and she doubled over from the feeling of shame that knifed through her heart. How dare they? Who did they think they were?

She practically ran out of the bar, her heart thrashing wildly, her breath coming in short spurts. When she reached her car, she fumbled with the keys, while the icy rain soaked through her wool skirt suit. Inside the car, she blasted the heat to try and stop her teeth from chattering. But there was nothing she could do to stop the hot tears from spilling down her cheeks.

She didn’t want to prove him right about her. She’d rather die than see him own her home. Not him. He didn’t understand the need to protect the past. All he cared about was ramming his way to the next big thing. There was no way she’d live to see the satisfaction on his face.

Anger burned through and dried her tears. Should she confront them? Could she accuse Tim’s receptionist without proof? Her fingers gripped the door handle so hard that tiny blue veins mapped a crisscross pattern on her hand. The silence in the car was deafening.

Until her phone rang.